


Remember Me

by MaxRev



Series: Tumblr image prompt [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: AU-Canon divergence, F/M, Image Prompt, Mild Language, October 2016 Prompt, Sexual Content, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxRev/pseuds/MaxRev
Summary: Arthur just needed some time to himself, a mini vacation. He knows it isn't a good time, they're getting ready for a major battle after all, but it's only for a few days. All he wants is just some rest and relaxation away from the stress of being Elder and instead, to just be Arthur for a change. He has his most trusted Paladin and the new Knight, Claire, with him.  Nothing could go wrong with them by his side. Right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likegoodangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likegoodangels/gifts).



> This is for the October image prompt on tumblr. 
> 
> Took me a bit to get this going. As soon as I saw the image, I had the idea, had the story, but struggled to put it "on paper" until I was listening to the song Centuries from Fall Out Boy, which really made it come to life.

They both stood on the Command Deck, Arthur and Danse, but this was not the usual mission Arthur was requesting. Arthur had sent the Knights that usually stood guard away for a while as well as anyone else within hearing distance. That alone alerted Danse that something was up.

“I require your assistance, Paladin. I need a few days to myself; no demands, no decisions to make...just time to breathe and be myself for a change.

Danse wasn’t quite sure he understood the request. Maxson wanted to just….leave everything? He knew the mission wasn’t easy. In fact, it was probably the hardest thing Maxson had ever faced and being responsible for all these soldiers, as well as the people in the Commonwealth, must weigh heavy. But to just...walk away for some R&R? Impossible!

“I do understand but it just isn’t possible. We're preparing for a battle. The Brotherhood is counting on us." Danse waved an arm in the air around them. "These soldiers are counting on us -- you can’t just disappear!”

Forgetting protocol in light of this behest, Danse ran his hand through his hair, frustrated at what Arthur was asking of him. It was a request but he knew Arthur well enough to know that if he continued to try to talk him out of it, that request would become an order and then, he would have no choice to comply, regardless of his feelings. He _had_ to try, though.

“Sir, leaving at this stage would jeopardize our greatest mission for the Brotherhood. Not to mention you’re needed, especially now at this crucial juncture.”

Danse, always so levelheaded, always following procedure. He was also right this time, like he usually was. It didn’t matter. Arthur knew if he didn’t get away, he was going to lose himself to his own madness.

“I'm leaving in two hours, Paladin. I would prefer to have you with me but if you feel you can’t make that sacrifice, I will go alone.” He knew Danse would never let that happen.

“What mission is that? Where’re we going this time?”

Just what they didn't need, Danse closed his eyes in frustration. He could feel a headache blossoming behind his eyes. Maxson was stating that he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get away when he apparently already had. Now, here was Danse's own protégé and newly minted Knight, Claire, appearing at the absolute worst possible moment.

His eyes snapped open as Maxson addressed her. “I received some intel that needs to be confirmed. I would like the Paladin, and you as well Knight, to accompany me.” He looked at Danse while addressing Claire, as if to challenge him.

“Really? Sounds cool! I get to hang out with the Elder of the Brotherhood and his most trusted Paladin. When do we leave?”

Maxson as usual showed no response to her enthusiasm while Danse glared at her lack of proper decorum. She was all but jumping up and down like a child given a rare treat. This was exciting to her. Maxson turned those bright, hypnotic blue eyes on her and at once, she calmed down again.

“We leave in two hours. Get your power armor ready, pack what you need and gather your supplies. Meet me on the Flight Deck.” 

He brushed past them, headed for his own quarters to prepare.

Claire looked up at Danse, her excitement palpable. “Two hours? Must be some pretty damn good intel!”

“Language, soldier,” was the only response but for once it was said in resignation instead of his stern Paladin voice.

Claire rushed off to get herself ready.

Danse walked slowly to his room. He was not happy with this situation at all. The Elder just couldn’t up and leave whenever things got too overwhelming. He understood the price that he paid for being the Elder but now was just not a good time. Despite his misgivings, he would guard Arthur with his life and do all he could to keep him safe.

Arthur sat on his bunk, looking down at his pack. There wasn’t much in it as he only planned to be gone a few days. The clothes he wore were just a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt and boots. With his special coat, of course. Danse would insist he wear it anyway and Arthur wasn’t that much of a fool. He knew it was insane to do this and he was acting like a 20-year-old kid instead of the brilliant tactician and leader he was boasted about, but he felt like he was going to splinter apart into nothing if he didn’t put everything behind for a few days.  

He thought of Claire, how excited she was by each and every mission, and a half-smile crossed his face. So eager and unafraid, yet also so young and naïve. Young -- she was actually only four years older than him. Every day he bore the weight of his decisions, felt decades older than anyone here. He liked Claire though. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met, not that he would ever admit it and certainly would never show it.

Of course, he hadn’t met very many female vault dwellers over 200 years old but she had a zest for life unlike most people found in the Commonwealth. They were often tired and used up by the time they were his age, just trying desperately to eke out an existence in this world.

He was glad she'd walked in at that moment on the Command Deck. It saved him from trying to come up with an excuse to ask Danse to bring her along. This way, he could get to know her better. She was the only one around him not intimidated by his title or the position he held.

Two hours later, he watched as, timely as always, Danse strode towards him in his power armor. His protégé followed right on his heels, trying to keep up with those long-legged strides. Claire was small, so seemed extremely tiny next to Danse. Even Arthur was shorter than Danse by a few inches.

Climbing into the vertibird, he called back to them, “Let’s go. Climb in and store your gear.”

Claire clambered up inside the vertibird, tossing her pack on the floor and standing in the doorway of the cockpit. “You can fly this thing? You’re the Elder. Don’t you have Lancers for that?”

“I can and I do but I chose not to for this mission.”

“Knight, stow your pack and find your place.”

“Yes, sir, Paladin. Right away, sir.” Thank goodness he couldn’t see her roll her eyes.

Danse took the place where she had been standing, “Elder, are you sure want to continue this...mission?”

“Absolutely, Paladin. I’m landing at the airport. I need to speak to Ingram and then we travel on foot.”  

Danse barely had time to get in position himself, before Arthur undocked the vertibird and made a lazy sideways half circle down to the airport, probably showing off for Claire who had doubted his abilities.

The landing was soft and easy. He did indeed know how to fly a vertibird. Claire was impressed.

“Meet me at the entrance to the airport.” Maxson headed downstairs before they even left the vertibird to go speak with Ingram.

Danse and Claire said little as they headed towards the entrance in their power armor.

“So, what are we looking for?” Her curiosity always got the better of her.

“I was not briefed on the intel. We'll wait here on Maxson’s orders and then, he’ll give us what information we require for the mission.”

A long-suffering sigh greeted his words and Claire removed her helmet to enjoy the night breeze from the water while they waited.

As they headed out through the ruins beyond the airport, Claire found out what the mission truly was. Her suggestion had been to head towards the lighthouse. Arthur knew it was the perfect place to get away and relax for a couple of days.

They made it there quickly and with few problems, only the occasional mongrels, a few ferals and a mirelurk or two. As the lighthouse came into view, he wondered for a moment what this area had looked like back before the war.

He envisioned rocky outcroppings covered in moss, green grass carpeting the area with the sea stretched out in front and the sky above as far as the eye could see. Turning around now, all he could see was those same rocky outcroppings, but just sand and a scattering of barren trees. Such a shame how so many places like this were now just ruins of their once former glory.

Walking to the edge of the rocks, he tried looking over the edge. Claire had mentioned a cave as they traveled, along with a decades old story of treasure buried inside. He didn’t care about the treasure but the cave intrigued him.

“Elder, be careful!” Danse called out from behind him.

Always on guard, his Paladin. Even now, when there was nothing to fear.

Arthur turned around to use those exact words. And that's when it happened. He lost his footing having been so close to the edge, made an ungraceful plummet over the side, plunging into the ice-cold, irradiated water. He kicked up to the surface, grateful for having taken off his coat before. He gasped for air as he broke the surface, wiping hair out of his eyes.

He was in the cave Claire mentioned, the current having carried him inside. It was high tide as well. He only hoped there was some higher ground inside where he could stay until it went down again....and no mirelurks hiding in the depths.

Pulled along, the meager light from the moon outside failed to penetrate the darkness and he stuck his hands out to feel his way. As his feet found the floor of the cave, gradually rising up toward what he hoped was flat ground, he lowered his hands, just grateful to have found solid ground. His forehead met solid rock, pain exploding inside his head. That was the last thing he remembered as darkness pulled him under.

* * *

Arthur came awake slowly and unsteadily, realizing immediately he was not in his bunk on the Prydwen. The air smelled of salt and brine, water lapping lazily beside his head. He carefully opened his eyes, grateful for the semi-darkness. Looking around him, there was just enough faint light coming from outside to see he was in a cave. His mind cleared immediately. How long had he been down here? Why hadn’t Claire or Danse come to his aid? Were they attacked? Noticing that the tide had gone down, he headed back outside. 

Wading out of the cave unsteadily, water up to his ankles, he put his arm up to shield his eyes. The bright light made the headache he had woken up with pound hard enough to split his skull. The sun was bright after the dark interior of the cave and he was blinded by its brilliance. Once he stopped squinting, he looked around to get his bearings. Things looked different but as he had just been trying to keep from drowning before, he hadn’t paid too much attention.

The first thing he noticed was the boat at the dock was new...as was the dock. His eyes widened upon noticing the lighthouse standing tall and clean and new, the white of its paint almost as blinding as the sun. Walking up onto a bit of sandy shore, he noticed the trees first, the color of their leaves a brilliant green against the backdrop of the blue sky. The grass a rich green against the grays and browns of the rocks.

 _Grass? Leaves?_ _Where am I? What in the hell was going on?_ Thoughts ran through his head on an endless loop. As he came up over the cliff, he was struck by all the changes, his mind on overload from stimulation. The world he knew was gone, replaced by what he could only imagine was a world similar to that before the war.

Cars that were charred remains before now whizzed by on pavement that was smooth and intact, black as the darkest night. Houses were scattered around the rocky beaches, painted in bright, vivid colors, their windows shining with the reflection of the sun. Roofs, doors, walls all intact; actual shelter from the weather. It took several moments as he gazed around in wonder before he realized that his Paladin and Knight were nowhere to be seen.

A piece of newspaper floated past him on the breeze and he reached out to pick it up, the pages fresh and crisp, not yellowed with age like he was used to. The date was located in the top corner of the page and he sank to his knees. The letters were so black, they seemed to jump off the page, taunting him: _October 23, 2073_. How could this be? His headache came back to his awareness with a vengeance. The mighty Elder wanted to throw up.

* * *

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice called to him on the same breeze that had brought the newspaper, gaining volume as it came closer. He wasn’t sure what to do. Was it someone out to harm him? Never having run from anything, he wasn’t going to start now. It didn’t matter how bad he felt.

Looking to his right, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Claire and yet, was it truly her? This Claire looked completely different. Her hair was longer, the dark brown waves floating on the breeze. She wore a simple dress, similar to what some of the Commonwealth women wore but cleaner, newer. Where was her standard issue Brotherhood uniform? Her power armor? She didn’t even carry a weapon! All she had with her was some kind of satchel and books she carried in the crook of her arm.

He stayed where he was as she approached. Better to let her initiate the conversation while he attempted to find out what was going on. Besides, he wasn’t even sure he could stand without passing out. That just wouldn’t do, to show that level of weakness in front of one of his Knights.

“I saw you fall and wanted to make sure you were okay. Do you need help?”

“I’m fine.” It was all he managed to croak out before a wave of dizziness overcame him. He put a hand up to his head and winced as it came in contact with the bump on his head, blood was starting to trickle from it. He must have hit it harder than he thought.

“That is one nasty cut on your head. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I'm sure it's just a scratch. The current pulled me into the cave and I hit my head. I’m fine.”

“Is there anyone I can call for you? I’m not sure that driving is such a good idea.”

What could he tell her? He wasn’t so sure that even he believed what the facts he'd encountered so far were pointing to. Looking up, his eyes met hers. If that newspaper he found was correct, he'd traveled back in time. That would mean that this _was_ Claire…four years before the bombs fell.

“No, there’s no one. I came with some friends, but they…they’re gone now. I don’t have a….car either.” It wasn’t exactly the truth but it was close.

“Wow, some great friends you have. I’m Claire by the way.”

Having squatted down in front of him, Claire rocked back on her heels. She gazed at his head wound, let her eyes roam over the rest of his body in concern, trying to choose her words. There was something about this man that drew her to him; she couldn’t quite figure out what it was though. Oh, the hell with it.

“Look, I don’t normally do this, but you can come back to my place. I can patch you up and then you can be on your way. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

When he looked up at her, all she saw were brilliant blue eyes looking back at her. She felt a shiver….and it wasn’t from the cool breeze off the sea.

“Thank you. I promise I don’t bite either.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace. With the scar on his face, which was no doubt enough to frighten her, smiles were a rarity for him. The pain didn’t help either.

She stood up, holding her hand out to help him up, putting her arm around his waist trying to help him steady himself. He was all heavy muscle and taller, considerably so. She felt insignificant next to him, not sure if she was truly any help at all. They slowly walked to her car and she helped him in, reaching over and pulling the seatbelt on.

This Claire smelled so good, unlike anything back in the Commonwealth. He inhaled the clean, fresh scent as her hair tickled his face. It wasn’t anything he was familiar with from before the war, not that he'd ever been that close to her. He closed his eyes, wanting to imprint it forever in his memory.

Getting into the driver’s seat, she turned a key and everything on the dashboard lit up, just like in a vertibird. As they headed out onto the road, she pushed a button and music flooded the car – _Way Back Home_ – a song he used to hear sometimes on the Diamond City Radio back in the Commonwealth, the few times he had listened. Would _he_ find his way back home?

It didn’t take long before she pulled up to a house. Crisp light blue paint covered the outside and instead of a missing roof or holes in the walls, it was whole and sturdy, just like the other houses he'd seen near the lighthouse. If that wasn’t a sign that this time was prewar, he wasn’t sure what more could convince him.

Almost as soon as she stopped the car, she was jumping out and running around the side to help him out. He tried to take the seatbelt off but wasn’t sure how it worked. The mighty Elder, brought low by a simple buckle.

“Here, it’s okay. I’ve got it.” Once again, she leaned over him and easily maneuvered the belt off.

She did her best to help him get out of the car, placing one of his arms across her shoulder, she let him lean on her as they walked. He was so sturdy, so strong and Claire struggled to support him up the steps to her front door.

Trying to help steady him while also putting the key in the lock was proving to be a hard task to complete. His hand reached out, covering hers to help her insert the key in the lock. She tried not to react to his touch and then door opened and they stumbled together into the living room, so she brushed it aside.

“You can lay down on the couch while I get something to clean up that cut and get it bandaged.”

Claire hoped her nervousness didn’t come through in her voice. Having his strong muscular body next to hers was making butterflies dance in her stomach. He made her aware in ways she'd never experienced before. She knew some guys from college. They were her friends, she enjoyed their company but this man….he did things to her she couldn’t explain. When his hand had touched hers, she felt an electric charge that traveled through her whole body. This man was dangerous in ways she didn't comprehend. 

Getting what she needed from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror as she shut the door. What she needed was a cold shower while she was in here. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks were flushed -- this was ridiculous. He was probably just another college guy and as soon as she helped him, he'd be on his way.

Splashing some water on her face too cool off her cheeks, she decided she was recovered enough from her reaction to face him. Grabbing her supplies, she walked back out to the living room to find him lying across her couch. One arm was draped across his eyes, the other hanging off the couch, fingers touching the floor. He was so tall, his legs dangled over the side.

His jeans and his t-shirt were covered in dried, crusted dirt and were probably stiff from the sea water. She supposed it wouldn’t be very nice to let him suffer in those clothes, but what did she have for him to wear? She could see it now, _Hey, could you take off your clothes so I can wash them? Sorry, I have nothing but a sheet or blanket for you to wrap up in._ She didn’t even know his name!

Clearing her throat, she walked in making enough noise so as not to startle him. His arm moved and those eyes, the color of a wintery blue sky, found hers. Damn those eyes. She felt like they were sucking her in. Did he like what he saw? _Get a grip, Claire._ Kneeling down, she started dabbing at the cut to clean it. She felt helpless as he winced in pain.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any stimpaks. There isn’t anything else to take the pain away.”

This pain was mild compared to others he'd felt in his 20 years, he could manage it. She looked so upset about it though. He wanted to reassure her but then she might stop what she was doing.

“Do you have anything I could drink? Something strong?” That should help ease the pain and...other things.

Jumping up, she paused and looked down at him. “Would whiskey be okay? It’s all I have.”

“It’s perfect.”

He heard cupboard doors opening and closing softly, the clink of a bottle against a glass. She came back and placed it in his hand, setting a bottle on the table. He could smell the strong scent of whiskey. He knocked it back and a trail of fire burned down his throat, spreading through his body. He tried not to cough. This was infinitely better than anything after the war. He was amazed by the smooth, rich taste. What a shame it no longer existed. Then again, maybe that was a good thing.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you,” he waved his hand at her, the supplies and the whiskey, “for all of it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry your friends abandoned you. Figures it would be when you needed them the most.”

He said nothing as she crawled up on the couch next to him to continue to take care of him, tucking her legs beneath her, and smoothing the dress over them and out of his sight.

He mourned the loss. He'd never felt this way about a woman before. The smell of her hair, her sweet breath that caressed his face, her gentle hands as they took care of him. It was all so overwhelming and yet, it felt so right. He kept his eyes closed as she continued. The whiskey was making him feel relaxed and at ease in her presence.

As she cleaned the wound of dirt, she realized he was going to need stitches. Having taken a few first aid courses and at the time, not even sure why, she realized they would come in handy and though she could sew, she had never done that on a living, breathing human. In any case, she was going to have to let him know.

“I…,” she paused with a frown, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Arthur.”

“Well, Arthur, the wound is clean but I think you’re going to need stitches. It’s right at the hairline so it shouldn’t be too noticeable and likely no one will see the….”

Again, she paused, the awkward silence a testament to the fact that she had noticed what was impossible to miss.

“Scar?” He finished for her. A raised eyebrow was his only reaction as he looked up at her. “Good thing it won’t distract from my looks.”

Not knowing quite what to say as he closed his eyes again, she studied the scar that marked his face, thinking that without it, he would be unthinkably handsome and would most likely have brushed her off, injured or not. Men that looked like him didn’t look twice at girls like her; the ones who always had their arms full of books. Still, she thought the scar made him look a little bit dangerous and dashing, like some comic book hero. 

Without meaning to or even realizing what she was doing, she reached out, her fingertips tracing the scar softly. “How?” whispered between her lips.  

His mind now fuzzy from the alcohol, he didn’t think before he spoke. “Deathclaw.”

“Deathclaw? What is that?”

 _Dammit! I need to be more careful._ “It was just a very big, very ugly beast...dog...that had gotten loose and was terrorizing a neighborhood. That was what everyone called it after it gave me this scar.”

It was lame as excuses went but he wasn’t sure what kind of animals would cause a scar like his, what might be believable or if anything big enough existed in this world in populated areas. Having encountered his share of mongrels, it wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility -- except maybe for the size of the scar.

Thankfully, she wouldn’t know that. Her cool fingers tracing down the length of the scar made him think of her fingertips somewhere else; this whiskey was really strong, making his thoughts wander places it shouldn’t. Shifting uncomfortably, he sought to ease his discomfort. This woman did things to him no other ever had.

“I’ll go get some thread and a needle.”

“You can do it yourself?”

“Well, you will be my first victim….uh, patient. I took a few first aid courses and I know how to sew. Just never sewed on an actual breathing person before.”

“Well, I’m honored to be your first, then.”

Coming back, she settled herself once again by his side, her thigh touching his.

He had knocked back more whiskey while she was gone, hoping to bury the feelings in alcohol that she elicited in him. It seemed to be having the opposite effect, though, instead making them rush to the surface.  

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as she prepared everything, her hands shaking with nervousness.

“Here,” he thrust the bottle of whiskey at her, “it might calm your nerves.”

Staring at the bottle, she hesitated. “You think that’s a good idea? I don’t want to make a mistake or...hurt you.”

“And mar my good looks? They can’t get any worse. As for pain, I’m quite numb right now.” Well, parts of him were.

“You’re right, they can only get better.”

They stared at each other for several long seconds. She was the first to break eye contact as she grabbed the bottle and brought it to her lips. She swallowed and he watched as it traveled down the length of her smooth throat.

“Okay, I can do this.”

He wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more, him or herself. She needn’t worry about his concern, any more damage to his face was negligible at best. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feel of her hands as they did their work.

Arthur knew she was done by the absence of those gentle hands against his skin, his side warm where she still sat next to him. Time had slowed while she worked and every brush of her breast against his arm had been sweet agony. He desperately needed that whiskey to focus on something else, but he was loathe to move, so he suffered in silence.

“I’m done. Not sure how good it is but it will keep the skin closed so it can heal. You can probably take the stitches out in about 4 or 5 days or so.”  

Turning and grabbing the bottle, Claire tipped it back again, letting the whiskey wend its way down her throat to numb her nerves -- or at least she hoped. When she began this farce of being a nurse, she was worried she would completely screw it up and leave his rugged, handsome face with another scar. As she continued, she was less worried about that than her own reaction to being near him.

The heat of his body, the hard muscles that moved and tensed against her soft skin, her breast brushing against him -- all of it threatened to be her undoing and she had had to struggle to concentrate on every single stitch. What she wouldn’t give to keep a man like this or just to have him for this one night.

“Thank you, Claire. I’m grateful for all you’ve done to help me.”  

His hand grasped hers. It was smaller but strong just the same. He meant what he said. She was cheerful and somewhat shy, a bit more subdued -- different in many ways from the woman she was in his time. Yet, even here, she was still just as ready to jump in and help regardless of the consequences. She had come to his rescue after all, not even knowing who he was.

Like a frightened rabbit, she jumped up off the couch, her hand slipping from his, “I’ll go put these things away.”

His stomach growled but instead of asking for food, he just swallowed some more of the whiskey. The whiskey made him think of a different kind of nourishment….devouring her, nibbling at her skin, sucking--

His daydream was interrupted by the sudden noise of voices filling the room around them. He opened his eyes seeing a TV, one that actually worked. His eyes widened as he viewed a person talking to them here in her living room through that screen, commenting about the ongoing war with China. The war that had started it all.  

“Are you okay? Do you have family in the war? This whole thing just keeps escalating and I’m honestly worried what it means for all of us.”

Arthur was never so grateful that she had turned away from him as she spoke. Surely, his thoughts were written on his face, no matter how stoic he could be. The reality of what this world faced staggered him. He couldn’t answer her questions, not even sure what being here with her would mean for her future. Would she even make it into the vault now? Brushing these thoughts aside as there was nothing he could do about it, he focused back on the TV without listening to what was being said. He knew all he needed to know about the war.

He did have a sudden thought, though. Where was Roger Maxson, the man who had started the Brotherhood? His ancestor. Right now, he would still be part of the Army, not having founded the Brotherhood of Steel yet. That wouldn’t happen until after the bombs hit, at least four more years. What would it be like to meet the man in person? There were so many things he wanted to ask him. To find out if he was doing the right thing, making the right decisions. Turning his attention back to the TV, he realized that most likely, Roger was in Alaska or over in China, nowhere near here him at all. Missed opportunities.

* * *

“Where is your bathroom?” All that whiskey needed someplace to go.

“Through that doorway, down the hall and on your left.”

As he left the room, she thought about his answer to her question about the scar, his reaction to the car, the news on TV. Who was he really? Was he running from something or someone? The better question to ask was….why wasn’t she afraid of him?

As he walked back into the room, she watched him pulling his shirt back on, caught a glimpse of hard planes of muscle. Those clothes must be so uncomfortable to wear. Oh, what the hell…

“I can clean those for you if you want. Unfortunately, I have nothing for you to change into...unless you want to wear a toga.” At his questioning look, she laughed, “A sheet.”

She knew his name now right? So, what could it hurt?

He kept looking down at his clothes, not meeting her eyes, and she thought she had gone too far. He was going to walk out of the house, call someone and be out of her life forever.

“I’d like that. I feel like I’m wearing armor right now.”

She ran upstairs to fetch him a sheet and handed it to him while he went into the bathroom to change. When he came out and handed her the clothes, her mouth went dry. He had folded and wrapped the sheet before putting it on but instead of using it like a toga, he had only wrapped it around his hips, leaving that broad muscular chest bare. A chest that was covered in dark hair stretching across his chest, narrowing as it traveled down his abdomen, ending at the edge of the sheet. Her eyes inspected every dip and hollow of those hard planes of muscle, emphasizing just how much of a male he was. The sheet ended above his knees, showing strong muscular legs covered in fine hair.

“Did you want these?”

Her face must be turning an alarming shade of red. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be able see it in the waning light. Oh sure, when had she ever been that lucky?

“I...um, yes.” Taking them from his hand, she held them in her arms like a shield, refusing to look at him. He must have females throwing themselves at him all the time. How embarrassing to be just one of many.

She tried to get past him but he blocked the whole doorway by size alone. Finally daring to look up at him, she swore she saw a spark of amusement in their depths. A spark that ignited a fire. He thought this was amusing! Asshole…

Standing as tall as she could, which wasn’t much at only 5’2”, she reached one hand out to push him out of the way. What she failed to consider was her reaction upon touching that hot male flesh. Yanking back her hand, she gazed up at him again to tell him to move or he could put his clothes back on, when she saw something else in his eyes. Hunger...for her.

Then the moment was gone, as he moved out of her way, letting her by. Of course, why would he truly want someone nerdy like her? She busied herself putting his clothes in the washer, trying to get herself under some control before she went back in there. Leaning on the washer, she took several deep breaths. Convincing herself she was fine now, she whirled around….right into a solid wall of muscle.

His muscular arms reached out to steady her as her hands came up for that same reason...coming into contact with that broad chest...again, that thick hair curling around her fingertips. His skin was so hot it felt like a furnace. She noticed that there were more scars scattered here and there. As her eyes picked them out, her fingers traced them. Had he been in the military himself? If so, than many things made more sense.

“If you continue, there will be consequences.” His words came out low and hoarse.

The look in his eyes staggered her with its intensity. He wanted her...her. Little miss nobody.  Testing him, she continued what she was doing, moving her hands up over his shoulders, down his arms, grasping his hands in hers. Pausing, she looked up to gauge his reaction.

“Like this?” Her whispered words pushed him over the edge.

His head dipped down, capturing her lips with his own, his tongue slipping between her lips, tasting, teasing, making her weak, then stopping only long enough to confirm, whispered words against her lips. “Yes, like that.” 

Picking her up with an ease that left her breathless, he grasped her thighs and she wrapped her legs tightly around him. He carried her back to the couch, setting her down so she lay along the length of it. He kneeled down next to her, his fingers gliding up and down her legs, the feather light touches from such strong, callused hands causing all sorts of pleasurable sensations to travel up and down her body.

Those hands started to travel, higher and higher, sliding up under her dress, his thumb along her inner thigh and his fingers up and around her hip...such large hands. That thumb came so close to her inner core, she thought she would melt with need. All these sensations made her feel like she was drowning in a whirlpool, unable to stop from spinning. Then he grasped her panties, pulling them down and tossing them behind his head. Those ice blue eyes never left hers.

“Arthur…”

She called out his name, her body bowing upward, as his thumb found her sensitive nub and slid back and forth. A keening moan slipped from between her lips. She needed more, wanted more, but couldn’t form the words. He slid one finger inside her, slick and wet, in and then out, letting her get used to the feel of it before adding another. Heat coiled deep inside her. He leaned forward to kiss her, never removing his fingers. This kiss was not tender like the last one; it was demanding and passionate, devastating her. He was kissing her harder, tongue sliding in deeper and it stole her breath away. Yet she returned his passion with her own. Her hands wound up behind his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, kissing him back just as hard.   

His lips left hers, slowly trailing down her throat, teeth grazing her skin then softly following with his tongue until he reached her collarbone, bared to his lips as the top of her dress slid down.

“You’re wearing too much.” His eyes met hers, the desire in them making her feel wanted and sensual.

Feeling bold, she lifted herself on her elbows, challenging him, “Then take it off.”

There was no hesitation as he put a hand on each of her legs, sliding them up under her dress to push it up over her head as she moved her body to assist him. Suddenly, her boldness disappeared. Surely his other lovers had been more beautiful than her. She was small and wiry, built more like a dancer, her curves on the small side.

With actions, he showed her just how much he liked those curves, cupping her breasts, thumbs grazing over the nipples, making them hard. Then his lips followed, nipping, sucking, then laving them tenderly. Sweet unbearable torture. 

Her hands roamed across his arms, along his chest, following the contours of muscles, watching how they flexed and moved as she tormented him with her fingertips. She caressed the hair on his chest, thick and coarse, following the trail down as it tapered until her hand found the part of him that was thick and velvety, pulsing and alive in her hands. He growled low in his throat making her feel drunk with power that she could coax that sound from him. Emboldened by that, she let her hand slide up and down along the length of him, her thumb grazing the tip, until he pulled away from her, sitting on his heels.

Like a startled doe, she gazed up at him wide-eyed, wondering what happened. Was he having second thoughts? He snatched the sheet from beneath him and laid it on the floor, putting to rest her fears. Night had fallen and the full moon shone directly on him through the windows, casting him in shadows and moonlight like a figure from an erotic dream. If this was a dream, then she never wanted to wake up.

He stalked to the couch, holding a hand out for her to take, pulling her towards him and sweeping her off her feet before laying her back down on the sheet. Moving over top of her, his eyes were pools of liquid blue fire, focused on her intently. Gripping his biceps, fingers wrapping around the taut muscles, she pulled him down to her for another kiss. 

His mouth came down on hers, unrelenting in its intensity, as he positioned himself between her legs, rubbing his tip against her opening, making her whimper and moan in need. She couldn’t put voice to what she wanted, showing him instead by wrapping her legs around him and locking her ankles, desperate to pull him closer. With one hand, he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed himself inside her heat. A long, shuddering moan escaped her lips as he continued to slowly push himself in and out. He was so thick, stretching her to the limit. She had only ever slept with one man and it had been her freshman year in college, over two years ago. She heard him moan with pleasure as she tightened herself around him. Becoming accustomed to the rhythm, she met him thrust for thrust and the pleasure built, taking them higher and higher.

Tightening her legs, she urged him to go faster. He grasped her hips tilting them higher, filling her more completely. Powerful hips snapped against her with the urgency of his thrusts and when his thumb reached down between them, touching her, she fractured into a million pieces, blown away by the power of her orgasm.

He followed after her, uttering a throaty growl as he pulled out and spilled himself on the sheet. Boneless and limp, she made an effort to reach for him, to bring him back down next to her. He complied, pulling her close and fitting them together. Idly, she toyed with the hair on his chest, wondering what happened now.

He had gotten quiet and her eyes drifted up to look at him. He was sleeping. Something teased her mind and she tried hard to figure out what it was. Should he be sleeping? There was something about that word that kept haunting her. Her eyes roamed over his face, so relaxed in sleep, coming to rest on the scar that slashed down his cheek, then the one she had stitched. That was it! Head injuries required the person to be woken every few hours. Granted, it hadn’t been that long, but she should still check on him.  

“Arthur, wake up.”

His eyes opened slowly, giving him a sultry, half-lidded stare. “What?”

“You’ve had a serious head injury. I’m going to have to wake you every few hours to make sure you’re okay.”

His lips lifted in a smile, “Just make sure you wake me properly.” Then, he drifted off to sleep again.

Figures. Feeling a chill in the air that raised goosebumps on her bare skin, she got up and went back upstairs for a couple of light blankets. She covered Arthur with one, and wrapped the other, settling in for a long night on the couch, afraid if she stayed next to him, she would be too comfortable and fall asleep. A smile curled her lips up, she knew exactly how she would wake him up every time.

The night passed…uneventfully regarding Arthur’s head injury. In other ways, it was much more memorable.

Beaming in through the windows on the bodies lying tangled together on the living room floor, the sun shone bright mid-morning. Claire had decided to stay next to him the last time she woke him up, cuddling into his warmth.

Arthur yawned, stretching his arms above him, feeling more relaxed and at peace in longer than he could remember. The warm body next to him was a welcome sight as memories of the night before came flooding back.

Claire was amazing, in bed and out. He brushed a stray lock of her hair away from the face tenderly, not realizing he had been capable of such an emotion. Carefully sliding her arm from around his waist, he decided he was in need of a hot, steamy shower to ease the tightness in his muscles from the all the exercise he had gotten the night before.

He was enjoying his shower, letting the hottest water he could stand ease the aches in his muscles, when he realized he wasn’t alone. Turning around, he found Claire, standing behind him, a bar of soap in her hand. She wasn’t looking at him but he could tell by the redness of her cheeks, she wasn’t sure if she if this was a good idea. Lifting her chin with a finger, he leaned down to kiss her, letting her know that it was. That shower was the longest he had ever taken, as was the toweling off afterwards.

Wrapping a towel around her, she put her hand on his chest, to stop him from leaving the bathroom. She quickly returned, holding out his clean, folded clothes, turning to leave as he got dressed.

Arthur came out of the bathroom to tantalizing smells that made his stomach growl, wanting whatever it was immediately. He realized he hadn’t eaten in over a day. Leaning in the doorway, he watched Claire as she loaded up two plates, giving him a much larger portion, of a pile of something fluffy and yellow and thin strips of what must be some kind of meat.

“I hope you like bacon and eggs. It’s all I’m really good at making.”

She had put on another dress, one that matched her deep green eyes. Her bare feet padded across the floor as she set the plates on the table, gathered silverware and poured an orange liquid into two glasses.

They sat down, words unnecessary as they ate in silence. Arthur was amazed at the rich flavor of the food he ate. He wanted to ask what it was but he couldn’t without causing more questions. So, he ate and drank and relished all of it knowing he would never have it again.

“I take it you approve?” She smiled, the evidence was in the empty plate.

“Best I’ve ever had.” At least it was true. He helped her clean up, feeling like he should be helping in some way for all she had done for him.

Too soon, it was time to go. He knew it, but he didn’t want to leave. He enjoyed it here, could see him settling down with her, being happy. He knew that this life wasn’t his to live though. He had his own in another time, needed to find his way back. The only way to do that was to go back to the cave. He had to at least try. Would she even remember him? Would she be there when he returned?

“You have to go, don’t you?” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

“I do.” 

“I know, you have a life. I understand. I….I enjoyed this time with you.” She looked at him, those eyes so full of emotion. A tear escaped and fell.

He reached his hand out, cupping her face, his thumb gathering the tear before it could fall.

“Thank you seems so….inadequate….for all you’ve done for me.”

A smile as bright as the sun lit her face. “No, I should thank you. I've enjoyed this time with you.” 

It just couldn't last. The ride back to the cave silent, neither of them wanting to break the spell of their time together. Walking back towards the cave, they saw some young boys playing a game. He recalled reading about baseball but he was actually seeing it in action.

A ball flew past them, headed out towards the water. “I’ll get it,” Arthur called to them. He ran after the ball but didn’t catch up before it rolled over the rocks, making a splash as it landed in the sea.

Claire came to stand next to him and they stood looking down as it bobbed in the current.

“Well, guess I get to go swimming again.” 

She smiled a melancholy smile, knowing this was her cue to jump in her car and leave. “Goodbye, Arthur.”

He pulled her close one last time. Gently cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down, kissing her softly, tenderly before he let go.

She turned around and he watched her walk away until she got in her car and left. Maybe he would see her again. He couldn't be sure.

Climbing down the rocks, he swum out to the ball, grabbing it and throwing it high towards where the boys had been playing. He heard a chorus of “thank you’s” so knew they had gotten it back. He stayed where he was, letting the current pull him once again into the cave where it was too dark to see.

Finding his footing, he wondered how he was going to find a way back to his time. He certainly couldn’t just go bang his head on a rock again. Hearing a sound behind him, he turned suddenly…..and hit his head in the same place as before. Falling to his knees, pain burst through his head and he blacked out.

* * *

“Arthur? Arthur! Where are you? Answer me!”

Danse’s bellowing could alert a whole army of...well, anything around here. He didn’t relish that thought, especially the way he felt right now. He came to, groggy and disoriented, letting the dream go that he had been having. Propping himself up, he could see the outline of his Paladin at the entrance of the cave.

“Right here, Danse. Stop yelling. You’ll have every mutant, raider and synth in the area knowing our exact location.”

Putting a hand to his head as the pain increased with all the noise, his fingers came away wet. He must be bleeding. Using his fingertips, he carefully felt along the side of his head and found stitches. Stitches? His dream came back to him with clarity. Impossible.

“Are you okay, Elder? Can you walk or do you need me to assist you?”

“I can walk just fine.” He growled in answer. He wasn't that weak. 

They waded out of the cave, Danse behind him just in case. The sunlight pierced Arthur’s eyes and he put his hand up to shield them from the sun, a feeling of deja vu coming over him. Looking around, everything was as it was supposed to be.

Climbing up the side of the rocky landscape, he felt lightheaded, stopping several times to keep from passing out. Once they made it to the top, though, he couldnt hold back, falling to his knees. Even that was too much and he started to fall forward, saved from falling face first by the Knight he hadn’t seen until she had him cradled in her arms.

Looking up in those deep green eyes, his own widened. Claire was still here!

“Well, hello there, Arthur. How was your adventure?” Humor sparkled in the depths, as her gentle fingers brushed away the hair from his face and traveled over the cut on his head. “Messed up all my beautiful work, I see. Shall I fix it for you...again?”

“You,” his voice cracked and he took a deep breath, trying for some semblance of calm, “You remember?”

The humor left her eyes, replaced by a deeper, stronger emotion, “Oh, yes. Every. Single. Detail.”

Then her fingertip traced the deep scar on his cheek, the one from the deathclaw, and he saw laughter once again along with a wicked grin. “You really should work on your stories, Arthur.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know when I started this, it would just keep going and going like the Energizer Bunny. Even so, there is still so much more I could have added....
> 
> I don't know how well I've written Maxson as I've never used him in a story before but, in case he doesn't come across as the Arthur everyone knows and loves (to hate), I apologize. For this story though, he is what I wanted him to be. 
> 
> I had wanted to throw in there somewhere him seeing technology as it was before the war in the big city (what I think is so essential to his character), maybe trying ice cream for the first time or going to a movie. The possibilities were endless. However, deadlines and all. If anything seems out of place, go ahead and let me know.
> 
> I appreciate the feedback and comments always welcome!


End file.
